


Home.

by JustAnotherWordSmith



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz has a nightmare, Comfort, M/M, Nightmare, post carry on, pre wayward son, simon comforts him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherWordSmith/pseuds/JustAnotherWordSmith
Summary: It’s so dark. It’s so cold. Alone. Alone. A-“Baz, shhh, hey, it’s okay I’m here.”My senses are suddenly flooded with something new. Burnt popcorn. Warmth like the sun. Cornflower blue. Auburn curls. Constellations scattered across ruddy skin.Simon.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Home.

**Author's Note:**

> I just read through Carry On and Wayward Son in like...a week (welcome to my new hyper fixation lol) ANYWAY!  
> I couldn't get the idea of Simon comforting Baz after a nightmare out of my head so have some sort of fluff with our favorite disaster gays

**Baz.**

* * *

Pitches don’t cry.

We don’t show what we’re feeling most of the time at all if we can help it. Chin up, shoulders back, expression neutral. Keep the upper hand. Don’t show weakness.

Snow has seen me cry. That night in the forest. I hadn’t meant to start crying, but suddenly the tears were there and they wouldn’t leave. 

There was a lot that happened that night that I didn’t expect. There was a lot that happened in the past month or so that I didn’t expect.

Still, I don’t cry in front of people. Back at Watford the catacombs were my place to let the tears fall, my safe haven. 

Until it wasn’t.

Walls closing in. Stale air and the dark, the darkness closing in until even my eyes can’t see anything but the terrible black. I scream but no sound leaves my throat, my nails are broken and bloody from scratching at the wood, my leg aches and I can’t stop the tears. 

It’s dark. So dark. Dark and cold and _lonely_.

A broken sob tears it’s way from my chest and I feel my eyes force open, adjusting quickly to the shadowed room. Pushing myself up until I’m sitting on the bed, I rub the heels of my hands into my forehead, willing the panic and the memories to dissipate like the dream did. But the smell of old blood clogs my senses, the silent ringing in my ears that accompanies dead silence, my body is shaking and I can’t stop the cries pushing their way out of my chest. It’s so dark. It’s so cold. Alone. Alone. A-

“Baz, shhh, hey, it’s okay I’m here.” 

My senses are suddenly flooded with something new. Burnt popcorn. Warmth like the sun. Cornflower blue. Auburn curls. Constellations scattered across ruddy skin. _Simon_.

Hands that almost burn with heat gently pull my own away from my face, holding them firmly in his as Snow kisses all of the tears off my cheeks, murmuring comforting things softly against my skin.

My breathing stutters slightly as I try to focus on him, grounding myself in his presence. I draw closer to him, and he lets me, releasing my hands so he can wrap his arms around me and pull me completely against him, running his fingers soothingly through my hair as his wings move to wrap around us both as well. 

I have never been able to narrow down quite how I feel about Snow having wings, but in this moment they are warm and strong and holding us together. 

Nightmares are nothing new for either of us. We’ve both suffered from them as far back as we can remember. What is new, is us being there to comfort the other when they do strike.

“Coffin again?” He asks quietly into my hair. 

I nod.

“Is this okay?” He asks, flexing his wings slightly, knowing I get claustrophobic. 

I nod again.

“What can I do? What do you need?” 

A shuddering breath leaves my lungs, and finally my breathing is back under control. “Just hold me...please.” 

He wraps himself more securely around me and begins to stroke my hair again, (I think he might have a bit of a fixation on it to be honest) but it feels impossibly good and I would gladly let him do it until the end of time itself. 

This... _this,_ feels good. It feels right.

It feels like home.

  
  



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